Ann Arbor runners return to Boston Marathon one year after near misses

One of the things that makes me so upset [is] that it was ruined. When I think back to any moment before the bomb went off it was the best day ever.

Catie Schadlick and Andy Caselli will not be in a rush to finish the 2014 Boston Marathon.

They might stop to say hi to friends cheering them on or even have a beer with those tailgating along the route. They’ll certainly run the whole race side by side.

“The goal is to have a good time, not a fast time,” Schadlick said. “That’s what Andy told me and it’s definitely my mantra.”

The Ross School of Business brought both Caselli and Schadlick to Ann Arbor. Schadlick had moved from Boston for her fiance Nate Franklin to enroll in the school’s MBA program and Caselli was working toward the same degree.

The two met through their mutual love of running and trained together all winter for the 2013 Boston Marathon. His job during that race had been to pace Schadlick, a Massachusetts native, toward a very different goal: finishing the race in under four hours.

Somewhere between mile 15 and 17, Caselli began to fade and the two parted ways.

“It was a great day, weather was perfect, I was running well, it was everything you could ask for. My old apartment is on the course, my roommates were out cheering for me, it was like my homecoming so he convinced me to go on without him,” she said. “He promised he’d be five minutes behind me.”

Schadlick was so focused on her goal that she sprinted down Boylston Street to the finish line, not bothering to look for her family, friends and fiance who were supposed to be on hand to cheer down the final stretch.

Ann Arbor resident Catie Schadlick's bib and medal from last years Boston Marathon. Patrick Record | The Ann Arbor News

“I stopped just on the other side of the finish line before I even got water or medal. The big clock said it was just over four hours and I was heartbroken, but then I looked at my watch and saw I came in 3:55,” she said. “I started tearing up, I was so excited.”

The excitement gave way to confusion as the first of two bombs planted near the finish line exploded, sending a wave of shrapnel into runners and the spectators cheering them on.

“Just in that moment I heard what I thought was a cannon which was really weird because I obviously am not the fastest, and I wasn’t the slowest, I was somewhere in the middle,” she said.

“I turned around to see what it was and all I see is smoke behind me and everyone was just kind of stopped. Everyone was just looking into the smoke.”

The confusion did not last long, as another explosion ripped through Boylston Street.

“That was the hardest thing,” Schadlick said. “Because then you were able to tie the sound to what it actually was.”

A little more than half a mile behind Schadlick, her running partner Caselli was already having a less ideal day.

“I was feeling pretty tired, pretty flat. I felt like the crowds were a little much, I mostly run alone and I like that,” he said. “I really wasn’t enjoying the Boston Marathon which was kind of ironic given that it’s so exciting and supposed to be such a fun race.”

Dutifully five minutes behind, Caselli’s run was halted about a quarter mile short of the finish line by police bringing barricades into the middle of the road.

“I thought ‘OK, no big deal, great, now I could take a little break,’” he said.

“There were these other runners who obviously took this much more seriously than I did who were trying to get around the road block and to the finish line.”

Caselli said he initially thought the stoppage was due to something innocuous, perhaps a water main break or a building maintenance problem. Like Schadlick, it took some time for the runners who had yet to cross the finish line to realize that something much more serious had taken place.

“About a minute later you got this big waft, it smelled like gunpowder, and you started to see people around who were starting to leave crying,” he said. “At this point we started to realize something was wrong.”

The rest of the day was a blur.

Schadlick ran straight past the volunteers trying to hand her a medal and Gatorade. She didn’t stop until she reached the offices of the company she still works for.

“I thought my legs were dead and gone but turns out I had a couple miles left in me,” she said. “It felt like I got there in the blink of an eye.”

Using the office as a home base she began to search for her family and fiance who were supposed to be at the finish line.

“As a result of day-drinking with my friends, [my fiance] was late and hadn’t been there when I crossed,” she said. “On any other day I would have been very upset at him but as it was, the moment that I heard that was the most relief I’ve ever felt in my life.”

Meanwhile, Caselli was trying to reach his own fiancee who had jumped into the race a few miles back to run with a friend.

“I have a bad record of not calling people,” he said. “So I thought to call my fianceé who was running with her sister. I called her to say I think they’re suspending the race, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to talk to you next, but I’m fine.”

Shortly after that cellphone networks in the area were cut off and Caselli was unable to reach anyone until later that evening. For the next six hours he sat on multiple buses, attempted to talk his way past armed policemen and tried to make sense of what was going on as he tried to get back to his race bag to recover the ID he would need for his flight back to Ann Arbor the next day.

“It sounds cliché, and I wish there were a different word for it, but the whole thing was just very surreal,” he said. “There wasn’t anything cohesive about the day.”

Both Schadlick and Caselli were eventually reunited with friends and family, none of whom were injured in the blasts. Both returned to Ann Arbor where Caselli finished his MBA before moving to Chicago to work for a telecom company.

The long road back

Despite continued training with with local running group PR Fitness, Schadlick was dead set against running Boston again, especially after a traumatic experience at the New York Marathon.

“They started the race with cannons. I just hit the deck,” she said.

“In that moment, I’m sure I looked really dumb but I hit the deck and other people started running. I really thought that having all these feelings from last year on top of the regular anxiety would stop me from running.”

PR Fitness, a group that organizes runs and provides training for competitors will send about 30 people to the Boston Marathon this year, 20 of whom are from the Ann Arbor area.

“We think of Boston as a celebration and a great place to go. It’s kind of like the Super Bowl for runners, and we’re going with a greater purpose than last year,” Rob Morgan, who co-founded PR Fitness with his wife Marie, said. “I think once we start talking about it, it opens the doors to some of those feelings that we haven’t really brought up over the past year.”

Members of PR Fitness pose for a "send off" photo with runners who will be running in the Boston Marathon on April 21, 2014.Photo courtesy of Rob Morgan

There are 61 runners from Ann Arbor registered for the 2014 race, along with eight from Saline, four from Dexter, four from Ypsilaniti and two from Chelsea.

During a 20-mile training run that reunited the pair, Caselli convinced Schadlick to give the race another try — not for the glory, but for the experience.

“It’s about making memories, making the most of it so I can tell my kids what the experience was like and hopefully it will be a halfway decent story,” he said.

Unlike Schadlick, Caselli is also running to cross the finish line on Boylston Street for the first time.

“It’s a little weird. I feel a little uncomfortable being a part of this media spectacle when for me it’s about going for a run,” he said.

“But I think there is a part of me that does want to cross the finish line. I don’t need the medal, the T-shirt or the post-race party, but for me I want to check that box. I want to say that I’ve finished the Boston Marathon. That’s it, it’s nothing less, nothing more.”

Neither runner said that they have any concern over security at this year’s race, but while Schadlick admitted to being nervous about keeping her emotions in check, Caselli said he believes he’s come to terms with what happened and will be able to concentrate on running.

“I’m more concerned about hauling my ass 26 miles than anything psychologically,” he said.

Many runners put their names or special symbols on the backs of the shirts that they wear during the race so that fans can give them personalized cheers as they make their way along the course. Schadlick said last year she put the “Block M” on her shirt and was serenaded by a chorus of “Go Blue” throughout her run.

“Last year was great, but this year I’m just going to do ‘Thank You,’” she said. ‘It’s a thank you to the [Boston Athletic Association], thank you to my friends and family, thank you to everybody that’s out supporting us.”

Before she ever ran the marathon, Schadlick had been one of those shouting encouragement to competitors and participants as they passed by her apartment. She said it feels as though the entire city of Boston comes out to celebrate Patriots Day and the race that will be run Monday for the 118th consecutive year.

“The tailgating is as good as running. Either way it’s a 26-mile party. That’s one of the things that makes me so upset that it was ruined,” she said. “When I think back to any moment before the bomb went off it was the best day ever.”

As Caselli and Schadlick make their way through the city of Boston, they’ll be measuring their race in high fives and smiles, not hours, minutes and seconds. Whatever the time on the clock may read as they cross the finish line Monday, it will be a good time.